THE SHREK COUCH

I guess I can’t claim the idea behind this post, and have to give credit to my sister who has inspired me to look further into a furniture piece than the standard individual would. I don’t blame you if you feel somewhat “green with envy” after reading this either, this couch is one of a kind and being in a student diggs – has seen more than the average parent. And it’s only March!

To my younger sister, this is for you.

Like most students, our budgets are tighter than ‘skinny jeggings.’ (Skinny Jean Leggings- Like as if jeans couldn’t get tighter; well they just did!) Of course we pictured big bulging leather or suede couches that cost the price of our one month’s rental; but we had to snap into reality very fast when we realized we didn’t even have a stove/oven or a fridge – and did plan on eating in the very near future.

It must’ve been the hottest day in Cape Town when we came across our new couch-companion. We didn’t have much choice and probably wouldn’t have picked lime green with an option for colour- but which Cash Crusaders offers you the service of choice? ‘Its second hand, but it still works you snob!?’ I think that’s what every Cash Crusader staff had filtering through their minds when two Johannesburg girls walked into the Observatory branch for the very first time in little shorts and sunglasses on our heads.

We found him lying at the back of the store, his twin being sold a few hours before to two other girls. I think we were more curious about who these two other girls were at the time, like as if we know every single girl in Cape Town!? Or why would they want to buy a green couch? Who does that? – Than actually finding out about how much this avocado slash ‘booger’ coloured green piece was going for. We stood back and observed every detail, pulling our noses up at the image we got in our heads with it being the centre piece in our TV-room.

My roommate made it very clear that she had a couch cover at home; trying to convince me that despite the lack of colour scheme, she could cover it up. I think I was just hoping that the two girls that bought it’s twin version were not staff members in the store. They probably liked the colour/look and there we were ranting and raving like designers, couch experts (and couch potatoes?) of how we’ll disguise its appearance in our home. I don’t think this particular Cash Crusaders had ever dealt with two customers for so long either. They could’ve offered us a cup of tea, and two cups later we would’ve still been testing its spring bounce.

It was almost like we were debating over whether we should buy the new 2011 Ferrari Enzo off the show room floor. Except, it wasn’t. It was a second hand green couch, going for cheaper if paid in cash. Probably handed down 14 times, springs not very bouncy and a stain on the left hand side. We bought it. And it’s beautiful.

Two hours later a mini truck pulled up outside our Apartment block with what looked like a huge green fungus on the back. At least if our fridge wasn’t coming anytime soon, we knew it would suddenly blend in with the kitchens colour scheme of food-mould. Or our faces when we have to eat another marmite on toast dinner because we haven’t bought a stove/oven just yet.

Shrek, don’t ever believe any ‘asshole’ (literally) that sits on you and brings you down. You are always there for a hug, when our mothers can’t be. You a great bed for guests, and are mostly guaranteed only the best feedback as an intoxicated sleep is normally the finest. You are something we guaranteed to always want to come home to after a long day of work, unlike most of our spouses. You are our better psychologist, as we are both studying psychology. You don’t talk back. You’re a friend and a good story to tell our kids one day. But most of all, you’re our only proof that we actually have ‘gone green’, and do care about global warming & recycling.

Despite greener pastures ironically meaning something new, fresh or better when you did come from Cash Crusaders; you do however stand for growth. Not only because your back can be pushed back flat and can be made into a double sized sleeper couch, but because we’ve found ourselves lying on you on numerous occasions stuffing our faces and growing as individuals. In maturity of course?

And while this story might come across as ‘cute’ to you, Shrek still remains more knowledgeable about what is actually happening around us. So before you wish to be a fly on our/the wall, think twice.

Oh, and if you own a green couch, I do apologise.

...Only because your couch will never be quite like our Shrek couch!
(Even if you purchase 'the wanna be Shrek Couch.')

THE FAT MAN AND THE SKINNY BITCH

There I am feeling so guilty for missing my spinning class because I would prefer lying spread eagle on the couch watching DSTV with a huge bowl of popcorn. That’s exactly what I am doing right now. A bowl so big it could satisfy a whole starving community on a cold winters night. So big, you would think it was a bargain ‘made in china.’ And then, with my mouth filled to the brim like a 2011 average night club, it struck me. Why are men allowed to do this so often, beers and chips in hand – and feel proud, happy, and content? And there I am, feeling guilty?

I guess there are so many questions we could ask about things we just seem to accept in life. Why do we sit in stands? Why is it that you always want what you can’t have, and then when you get it, you don’t want it anymore? Why do we press so hard on the remote buttons, even though we know it’s the battery life? Why do we never hear 'your father ' jokes or why do we rarely see baby pigeons? Why on a superman outfit do they actually attach a label saying "Wearing of this garment does not enable you to fly." And why, WHY, are men allowed to be fat in society, and woman cant?
I bought a book called ‘Skinny Bitch’ a few weeks back. Show me a woman who hasn't been on a diet and I'll beat her to death with a box of Pick 'n Pay assorted glazed doughnuts. As a woman who's determined of getting into immaculate shape with experience from Weighless to Shakira’s flat tummy diet, there was no way I wasn't going to read a book positioned as 'A no-nonsense, tough-love guide for savvy girls who want to stop eating crap and start looking fabulous!' Yes, I read the book that night and then... I became a Vegan. While braai’s and roast chicken dinner parties were getting thrown in my face – I eventually put up both my hands, and my huge bowl of popcorn, and surrendered. Hah, stuff the popcorn, I want that. But I gave up veggie sausages that tasted like Tiger Wheel and Tyre’s and Beef Patty’s that tasted like the smell of mouldy Tupperware containers. 2 weeks was enough. I guess my roommate wasn’t Vegan, so it was a perfect reasoning for dropping Vegan-life, as how were we meant to share meals on our student budget?

I enjoyed my chicken, my bacon & avo pizza’s, and my boerie again. When everyone is eating what you inevitably want, of course you won’t be able to resist it. Its Newtons 4th Law, or should be. Until, my roommate got hold of the book herself and I’m now left with a fridge full of soya milk and plants. Could you imagine a man walking to his fridge only to find lentils, lettuce, soya yoghurt and tomatos? Could you imagine a top seller book called “Skinny Bastard.” Could you imagine a guy standing next to another guy in a public area, only to feel self-conscious and fat, and the need to remove himself from the situation or go straight to gym. How often do we look men up and down like they a piece of meat? (Or rather, a Vegetarian Chicken Schnitzel?) How often do men count calories in their beers, plan detox diets or sit around a pub chatting about what they ate today. It just doesn’t happen.

Why is it that men can have a 'beer-boep' so large, it hangs over the handle and into the trolley at Pick n Pay. Hiding the case of beer, boerie and 6 packets of Lays chips. Him, thinking we can't see it in the size of his boep or in the trolley when he prances around looking like the oft-overlooked Homer Simpson doppelganger. When us woman have to not only deal with it, but then get criticized for still being fat. Baby, have you not looked in the mirror lately, or should we invest in a bigger mirror? Then again, why is it that you men can squeeze our love handles and without saying a word we planning our detox & gym sesh in our heads - But, if we wrapped our hands around your beer-bop, you wouldnt even take note and probably ask us to shift up because you can’t see the Rugby score. Or, shift down because... Well that’s a no brainer. While of course, you’ll sip on your beer while impatiently shoving a huge handful of Lays chips, screaming at the ref on TV.

Why is it that women seem to feel the need to believe that guys actually have complex "feelings because it’s evident that they don’t? Woman, If you see a guy sitting in his chair, looking pensive, it's not because he's thinking about his relationships, appearance or why he's in fault for something he didn’t even do; he's most likely trying to remember a sports fixture.

I guess we can’t include all males just yet, before 40years of age, a lot of the male sex take time in their day to sculpt their “guns” / biceps, to gain power and masculinity in the real world. If you ask me, they just take up space. And then they reach a time in their life where they can let their guns go and lie spread eagle on the couch (with a huge bowl of popcorn?) While, might I add, still holding the expectations of having a wife, three kids down, that could model for a skinny bitch billboard print advert.

Until then, some things will never be answered. I’ll hop off the couch now to cook up some ‘plants’, and while doing so – millions of men around the world are busy kicking up their feet, popping open a beer to rest on their boep, and patiently waiting for a home cooked meal from their skinny bitch wife.

KISS OUR BUTTS you hypocrites.

If only we could say that.

10 People to try avoid in a club

Last night was our last night to see the Jo'burg crowd before heading off to The Mother City. It was Thursday so that meant Clapham Gold student night in Ghey'berg.

"Clup-him Gold." Yes, its where all the "main" boys hang out. - With their self tanned girls in their one hand, and Patrone on Ice in the other. It is inevitably a room filled with endless amounts of Rands, hair gel/spray, bling, mini dresses that cover minimal body surface area (If not at all) and horse-steriods.

Yes, we couldnt wait to go to Clapham Gold.

Okay, I make it sounds like a Boksburg nightlife spot. It is'nt. Infact, if you visited Jo'burg and wanted a taste of our real nightlife culture & fashion, Clapham Gold is it! The girls are beautifully groomed. The guys are... there? Either way, it's one night that you can slip into that little black number without feeling under dressed or overly slutish. A collar and your old matric dance shoes will do the job for the gents.

With 6 years of club-experience, despite finding late nights no more rebellious but rather a form of the-morning-after-self-pitty if during the week, I've officially concluded that upon entering a club... You always manage to bump into one of the ten people you dont ever want to bump into at a club. In the long run, It enhances the consuming of alcohol process and tends to make your night more memorable. However, we still wish that we didn't bump into them.

So here it goes.

#1: The friend of the bartender.

This guy saunters past the line, gives the bouncer a fist bump and makes a beeline to the bar to say a booming "Whats up my boy, Ive missed you!" He doesnt miss him. He wants a drink and there were other bars to go to, but he knows his deal here. He screams over the music, loud enough for everyone in the bar to know that he, is the bartenders best friend. He is important. He gets 10% off of draft beers & Tequila shots. Chicks dig it. If they with... The bartenders friend.

#2: The girl who thinks everyone is hitting on her.

Infact, there are more than one of these these days. One always catches your attention that night though. She walks like she's on a balancing beam, and flicks her hair like she's standing in the centre of a tornado. Or infront of a desk fan. “Excuse me”, you say. She looks you up and down, gives a disgusted look and claims, “I have a boyfriend!” Relax bitch, I just asked if you could move your bony ass out of the way because I have to take a pee and you’re blocking the bathroom door. She also tends to enjoy dancing on bar counters, standing on your toe in her professional bend and snap dance move, is a WHOOO girls and swings from pillars & poles, like she's a level 5 pole dancer.

#3: The guy who pretends to like you, to get to your friend.

You noticed him checking you out on the trip to the restroom. He smiles and looks you up and down. You finish off at the restroom and now he's ready to pounce into your space. You feeling hot and wanted right now. He approaches your table and asks you the three inevitable questions: 1. Where do you live? 2. What do you do?/ Where do you Study? And then he throws the third question into your face like a stale milk tart. 3. Is your friend single? You realize that he didn’t care that you used a bronzer on your cheek bones tonight, or that you live in a sweet little pad in town, which has fully kitted gym & pool. He pumped you for information to get closer to your hot friend. If we were interested then we'll never tell him she's single. “Let me save you some time: She thinks you’re a douche anyway. If you’re not buying a round, piss off.”

#4: The over weight girl with high self-esteem.

Sure she has huge knockers. But she weighs more than your whole family put together & could knock anyone out with her tripple E-cups. And to top it off, she has higher self esteem than #2. She tries to create a diversion from her body by wearing oversized necklaces, earrings and bracelets, with an outift that never hides her knockers - no matter how many little cardigans she has on. Shame. Bless her. She portrays to be the happiest girl in the club.

#5: The guy that bums your last smoke, and doesn't even inhale.

Im no smoker, so I dont feel the pain of all the smokers. But I could only imagine. He's not even cute - or he is cute but has a girlfriend and is just using his charm to - Bum that smoke off you! Any real smoker would know the etiquette to never to bum a smoker’s last cigarette. This can lead two ways. You finally realize, after doing your charity bit of giving away your last one - that he is actually just wanting to chat you up. He's not even a smoker. Or otherwise, he claims he is a smoker but its only because he's intoxicated and needs that smoke, like he needs a BigMac meal or a garage pie. He'll take it from you still and you cant say no cause it's the first guy thats actually spoken to you the whole night.

#6: That idiot who wears sunglasses on his head or face at the club.

Possibly the worst offender. You and your co-drunkerd hit the dancefloor after downing shots. It is then that you see him. I understand that disco & strobe lights are very much enhanced these days, to the extend that you just land up dancing with your eyes closed whilst screaming the words to the roof tops. But has global warming got that bad? His black hair looks wet, he has Versace sunglasses on, long gold chains resting on his exposed pubey chest. Oh God. He smiles thinking you checking him out. Take those glasses off you fool. Then, look in the mirror.

#7: That drunk person who loves requesting songs to the DJ.

You'll be dancing by him and he'll keep running off to the DJ box to request a song. Its either a "wedding reception" song, or a remix version that you heard from LimeWire. He will stand at the DJ box, BY THE SPEAKERS, and try scream the name of the song above the bass. The DJ will act like he heard. The DJ doesnt care because you dont have knockers. But he'll run back to everyone and pull a thumbs up, like its the next song on the list. It never comes. And he'll keep going back to request it.

#8: The Business card guy.

He got off work 2 hours ago, and is meeting his mates for a drink. (This always happens at Newscafe.) He is still in his suit. He looks important and despite what his face even looks like- he clearly thinks he's hot enough to check you out. Scrolling on his Blackberry, he strikes up a friendly conversationwith you. He'll always offer you a drink because he has endless amounts of money. You stand up tall and tell yourself you sober enough for this conversation. Or you just laugh friendly at everything he says because you not sober enough. You always manage to make a general remark about the dwindling economy though, or what you've learnt from your degree thus far, You then return to your rousing game of interactive bar trivia. “Give me a call if you’re ever keen to work for me, Im looking for someone like you.” You say thank you and slip it in your handbag. You still have it in your purse, and you dont know where it came from.

#9: The Divorcee, or that old man at the bar.

He's 52 and his wife of 22 just divorced him. Probably for his son. You would think that he wants a girl to take home in his 5-series BMW, but actually he just wants to talk. He wants to give you advice about what not to do in your life- and what to do. Who goes to clubs to sit at a bar and chat about life? And why take advice from an old man in a night club? He always manages to capture the broken "birds" however, and after buying her a cocktail he manages to get his chat - as she then only realizes that you cant down a strawberry daq and you cant take it to the bathroom either. So she lands up getting pissed on his tab, and talking about life. Thats when you should know, shots are the way to go!

#10: Your boss, parents friends or aunty & uncle.

You called in sick to work today and now you standing in a nightclub with a drink in either hand screaming "POKERRR FACCEE!" Your boss and other high up business people roll in for a drink unplanned after a meeting they had next door. You explain that you just here for a friends birthday, and you wish you were home in bed recovering from todays stomach bug. You land up downing 4 more tequila's after seeing your boss, not making any matters better. And then there are your parents friends, or your aunty & uncle. They just here for the World Cup after party, and you try hold a conversation with them on top of the loud music and friends you want to greet but cant walk by. You wake up the next morning either wondering what you said, regreting what you said or sure that it will get back to your parents. Either way, you tell your parents that you saw their friends out completely smashed.

And then of course, you see your ex - or you dont see your ex but you see his girlfriend/boyfriend or his/her sister. You see an ex teacher of yours, your tutor or that guy that ask's you for a drink at the bar more than 11 times.

Either way, you bound to bump in to one. If not all of them.

YOU'LL "LIKE" THIS ONE.

Thanks to an organization calling themselves the Academy of Linguistic Awareness, these posters are being plastered around major cities in the world. Thank you for the awareness you bunch of inconsiderate ‘ballies!’ Getting bored of your weekly Scrabble club doesn’t mean you have to now form organizations in the hope to make us become aware of what idiots we sound like when we try open our mouths. Or aid us in the battle of stopping this easy -“it just rolls off the tongue” without us even thinking about it- word.

WE LIKE DON’T KNOW WE DOING IT, SO LIKE WE CANT STOP OKAY!

Tonight we had some of the family round for dinner before I leave for Cape Town to start my final year at UCT. Apart from Pasta & Sorbet for desert, a good couple of laughs, Arsenal winning 3 – 0 and the conclusion of the night all around a laptop watching The Antwoord’s Music Video’s on YOUTUBE which turned into “MY DOG SWOLLOWED 9 GOLFBALLS” – there was a huge laughing debate on the misusing of the word “like.”

I can’t say that the youngsters sitting around the table tonight put across a well justified and strong argument. Partially because every time we tried to, we got shut down for using the bloody word again. It got to a point where someone even ‘dinged’ their glass for every time we misused the word, and then packed up laughing. Do you have any idea how that feels ? When, without even knowing, you use the word three times in a sentence. Not only does it sound like the nearest church’s orchestra but it just caused more “likes” in the whole process after forgetting your original thought process. Eventually we had a blink 182 rock-noise effect going.

If you in anyway unsure of what a blink182 rock-noise effect might sound like; You probably don’t misuse the word “like”, you find the Golden Oldies a treat on a Sunday Morning, you don’t like Superga’s as your weekend footwear choice and still battle to grasp the full concept of either the Internet or the Smartphone.

And then I found out how the trend came about, and I wanted to take a massive steak knife and a gigantic glass and ‘ding’ it so loud; to prove a point without revisiting the rock-noise effect. What about more of a "drum & bass" noise effect?

“Valley Girls have influenced speech patterns in a way that is remarkable. This ‘Valley Girl’ trend hit the apex of popularity in the 1980s, culminating in a 1983 movie staring Nicholas Cage bearing the same title. The hip lingo used in the movie, and all across the world, had teen girls interjecting the word ‘like’ in every sentence. Other words include; dude, sweet & totally.”

These girls growing up in the 1980s are now mothers of teenagers. I knew it, all you woman who wanted Nicholas Cage’s slippers under your bed, were not doing any justice to our linguistics. Us children use the word ‘like,’ not to compare, not to indicate preference, but just intermittently and nonsensically because it was YOUR trend once upon a time.

Valley Girl (or Val, Val Gal) is a stereotype leveled at a socio-economic and ethnic class of American women who can be described as colloquial English-speaking, materialistic, self-centred, hedonistic, and often sexually promiscuous. "Val-speak" is also a form of this trait, based on an exaggeration version of the '80s. This went on to effect the world through mainly hollywood, television, music & the radio.

DAMN YOU AMERICANS. ITS ALWAYS YOU LOT.

Just totally put it in like the dictionary now as like a conjunction, and then us retards will all be sweet.

At least for now it doesn't effect the ability to write, thank goodness. The ear accepts what the eye will not. Until some american Valley-Girl writer comes along with an Oprah best read novel award.

Then all you Ballies are (l*#e) screwed too!

DING.

I'll fall inlove. IN INDIA.

So here we go. The beginning.

Ever felt lost? Feeling like you're not doing what you suppose to be doing? "Do a 'Eat. Pray. Love.' adventure " shouts the desperate mother/wife, movie fanatic & dreamweaver In the background; who has ‘the’ average 2.5 kids, a husband that your bookclub hopes for your sake is more exciting in the bedroom without the wearing of his Algae green Crocs & a mother-in-law that unexpectedly came with the package like a BUY-ONE GET-ONE-FREE shoe sale. She’ll never have the balls to pack up her life, wave goodbye and head to Europe to digest Italiano pasta and fall inlove on a Vesper. But she'll dream it. I don’t blame her, do you?

Let’s face it, you didn’t need those second pair of free "but they comfortable?" in doubt shoes anyway, and despite soon getting tossed over to your maids 15 year old daughter - or rather, maids 15 year old daughters' DAUGHTER. (Latest current trend.) It just ends up becoming more like a "test" for when you can’t find the other shoe of the first pair you initially wanted.

In fact, I can picture this scene so perfectly in my household; the men are always half way out the driveway because a shave, shower & a soon-to-be-SHIT-on-you for not being ready on time seems effortless. And there’s us woman; hobbling down the driveway like a psychotic drunk with the lost shoe in hand and a bottle of wine for the guests screeching “Goodbye, Ill see you kids later – There’s money for Mr. Delivery on the kitchen counter, we'll start healthy again tomorrow night. (Top 5 most common phrases used in our household) Be good and no house parties or drinking dads J. Walker Blue Label.”

Yes, we got accused for demolishing Dad's whiskey on many occasions. To the extend that a huge lock was placed on the liquor cabinet . Which might I add, also entailed innocent supplies of drinking glasses, 30 seconds & cards. Hence why I never got above 60% for general knowledge quiz's at school or dominated in cards at break-time. And no, I wasn't hammered on whiskey.

We soon found out that Anna the maid was de-cantering all our liquids into empty Energade bottles. She unfortunately left before we could add laxatives or Simply Slim to the suspect liquids.

But we’ll never learn. Marketing so powerful that we'll believe for a couple of hours that we got a bargain. Marriage so presupposed that we'll have to fool the mother-in-law too, just to get her blue eyed boy's hand in marriage. Or the mother-in-law fooling us that her son is "blue-eyed." Mom made us believe that it was the maid drinking whiskey all along, she fooled us too. If we not fooling. We being fooled. We are fools. YOU ARE A FOOL!

Okay, I would love to continue with you all believing my mother is a whiskey drinker and "fooled" us. It gels so well with the storyline. However, its not true.

On a daily basis, we're getting fooled. Take for example, The Balance Bracelet. And don't think that if you wearing a BALANCE BRACELET you weren't fooled!
Headlines: "IT DOESN'T WORK– CLAIM YOUR MONEY BACK."

Except if you're South African of course. You cant expect your money back because majority of you bought R20 balance bracelets on the William Nicol, or the exact same one in a nutrition store with a 500% mark-up to pay for the store owners steriod addiction. He's closing down shortly like Simply Slim - but he'll be back open in no time with newer & better ones. "NEW AND IMPROVED BALANCE BRACELET! EXPOSE TO SUNLIGHT AND FEEL MORE ENERGIZED WITH EXTRA ADDED FLY REPELLANT TOO." It’s no wonder you wearing the same one as your gardener.

But us fools will carry on wearing them. And somehow ours still looks far more "balance worthy" than the Bafana-Bafana ones sold at the Engen Garage. So we wont chuck it away because CUMMON it's rude to throw a Xmas gift away, and your 15 year old daughters DAUGHTER is selling them too with your war shoes so don't fool her either.

But in the end, we’ll hop into bed at night with the same Croc-wearer husband positioned to catch fruit flies in his mouth next to you. Sunday Times still in hand. The cricket highlights from what seems 2 years old blaring in the background. Snoring louder than Mr. Moodleys' Golf GTI upgraded sound system.

And still. We'll lie there dreaming of just escaping on an "Eat. Pray. Love." journey. Despite having the balls.

I NEED SOME EXCITEMENT IN MY LIFE.

Often with a pin prick on time we stop dead in our tracks and we question if what we are doing right now is what we should ultimately be doing? "Hah", I don't doubt that you never stop wondering if there’s more to life. You don’t. Not even in that split second before you close your eyes and pack up your life’s past events into what I would like to think - a memory box; Only to wonder if that horrific past event, the time you by accidently stole from the boutique down the road, or when you were unfaithful or lied; is sending you to hell or not.

I’m not seeking to become a hippy, a rock star, a tree hugger or a Buddha lover. No I’m not going to explore Egypt as a blonde on camelback, nor am I backpacking the amazon with my heart rate level just yet. I don’t plan to starve myself for a cause either in the hope that Xenophobia, HIV and global warming get’s taken care of. (Despite it aiding in cutting student budget costs and a lumpy ass.) I just need some excitement. And why not when I still have the whole double bed to myself, the toilet seat always down and Dr.90210 boob job procedures done by Dr. Rey, blaring in the background.

So, here is the written proof; 2011 is where it will begin. The 21st of January to be precise.

At least if anything my blogging journey has officially begun. Not purely because my mom’s always told me to write a book in her biased-motherly ways, or because I found myself on Lulu ChingChing’s blog where she starts off by saying: “Me does knowing the truth is better than not knowing ? Currently I'm no knowing the truth of what he is doing nor where does he got those "thing" for us . Seriously hopeless all ready. Men is seriously hopeless!” and I somehow thought I could better her English on my own blog, with the established discovery and common understanding that we all share the same belief …Men are HOPELESS creatures. Even all the way from china - The majority of the world’s population.

But because I thought it was about bloody time that I not only started blogging these delirious and partially demented thoughts of mine, but because If I want to spin the world on it's head, and look for wisdomwith magic. I have to start somewhere.

For now, however, I'll be taking it one day at a time in the mother city, Cape Town, with a Jo'burg heart. (& intensity, stress & on-the-go attacks that Jo'burg has so generously groomed us with.) Just growing up, breaking up, toughening up & trying my best not to stuff up. I cause my own chaos. We even fool ourselves.

I wont, however, be following the "Eat. Pray. Love" criteria.

Because just my luck, I'll mess the whole thing up and fall in love in India.